


A Grim Reminder

by Karv



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Angst, F/F, No Sex, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27487273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karv/pseuds/Karv
Summary: Corporal Astrid Norn of the 888th Cadian Mechanized is reminded as to why she has been given the moniker of 'Halfjaw', and seeks comfort in the arms of her superior officer.
Relationships: Astrid Norn/Vickarina Naughten
Kudos: 10





	A Grim Reminder

**Author's Note:**

> So, full disclosure, this was my first attempt at actually writing something. The characters involved are taken from a pseudo-game of Only War, who I've decided to write about after their game was cancelled.

The sun rose over the massive city-spires of Brimstern Hive, casting monolithic shadows along the ground that stretched to eternity. The 154,000,000,000 citizens of the Hive awoke and began their day, from the rich Upperhive Phosgene barons to the lowly Underhive Banedax miners. The nobility of the Upperhive were more than likely drinking expensive glasses of alcohol for breakfast, while those of the Underhive were getting ready to work in the massive Banedax mines that provided most of Minea’s income. It was awful work, most agreed to that sentiment, and generations of men and women slowly killed themselves working in the mines in hope that they could make a living and provide for their family. Most of the time however, they often worked themselves to death and ended up leaving their family penniless. After the miners of Minea became wise to this, it wasn’t uncommon for them to take up arms and incite riots in the street for more pay. Armed with little more than the powered picks of their trade and their dissatisfaction with the current status quo, they marched up and down the streets of the Hives in packs, all crying out various slogans for increased wages, although a fair amount of them knew that their pleas were falling on deaf ears. 

The mob tore through the streets, drunk on rage at their Upperhive overlords, cursing their names as they trekked through the long and dark alleys of Brimstern. They encountered multiple other occupants of the hive as they went; shopkeepers and goods peddlers, gangers and gas-harvesters, some of which joining the protestors in their march. This had been the eighth of these ‘marches’ that had happened in the last month, in an event which would come to be known as the  _ Drevkarn Militancy _ , named after the famous Drevkarn Mines. These mines provided a healthy majority of the planet’s income through its exportation of the Banedax ore, meaning that when the miners decided to rebel for increased wages and safer working conditions, the income and wealth of Minea started to dry up. This caused a chain reaction over the last month as, because the miners stopped producing ore, the great Smelter Cadres soon ran out of Thrones to pay their workers with, only fueling the miners’ discontent even further.

Midday had come around when the Militancy had arrived at the great rockcrete gates that served as a barrier between the two sections of the hive. The gate, known affectionately as Morningstar Pass and named so after the legendary Iron Knights Commander Goedendag Morningstar who had saved the hive some years ago, was simple in design; two rockcrete guard-towers with a large ceramite gate between them, only able to be opened by a synchronized press of an activation rune from two of the attendants. Connected to each watchtower were a pair of gun-servitors, their mangled forms cut off at the waist and mounted onto rotating tripods, one arm removed and the other fused with a large, squat-nosed .30 stubber with an automatic ammo hopper attached to the gatehouse itself, able to be refilled if needed by the attendants. The eyes of the gun-servitors had been replaced by large, bulbous auto-targeting scopes that whizzed and whirled as they zoomed in and out across all the faces below.

As the armed men and women approached, the gates opened up to reveal row after row of armed and armoured personnel covered in thick black carapace armour with flowing greatcoats and wielding large, heavy-gauge shotguns. With almost perfect synchronicity, all of the figures approached and dropped into ranks, with the front rank taking a knee to allow their companions to fire overhead, and they all racked a singular shell into their riotguns. The sound was deafening, and it echoed across the tight confines of the Morningstar Pass. The Adeptus Arbites had arrived

Astrid Norn slowly woke up from the blissful confines of sleep, her ice-blue eyes slowly fluttering open. She yawned and brought a hand up to her face to try and wipe the sleep out of her eyes, sitting up and swinging her feet over the edge of the bed before checking the clock. 0600 hours. The woman reached her hand up and ran it through her short tresses of blonde hair before climbing out of bed and sliding into the shower. This was always the best part of her day. There was something so relaxing about the crisp hot water pouring down her body that completed every morning in such a perfect way. After she finished her shower, she exited and got dressed before making her way into the kitchen for her morning cup of caffeine. Her deadline for leaving the house was always 0700, and she typically managed to leave before that, so she took the time to savour the warm caffeinated liquid as it tried to shake off the last vestiges of tiredness from her body. The woman had chosen some simple casual wear before she went to work; a standard shirt of green and some basic jogging pants in black. She had her uniform to wear, anyways. 

She arrived at work perfectly on time at 0800, having taken the time to stop at her favourite local cafe for a small bit of breakfast. Astrid looked up at the heavy and imposing slab of rockcrete, eyes drawn to the large golden ‘I’ and scale that marked it out as the Precinct-Fortress of the Adeptus Arbites’ presence on Minea. Truthfully, this was just the entrance to the Precinct, with the full Precinct being composed of multiple buildings just like this one arranged in an octagon, with connecting roads and pathways between them. Astrid entered the main entrance of the Precinct and took the path that led her to the gymnasia and the locker rooms.

The Arbitrator entered into the locker room and found the locker that responded to her thumbprint, opening the smooth metal door as she’d done countless times over the last few years. As always, she was greeted by the familiar sight of the crushed black armaplas plates of her carapace armour, alongside the gleaming and polished steel of her beloved Pattern II shotgun. She stripped herself down of her city clothes and began to suit up in her uniform when she heard the sliding door open a second time, looking over her shoulder to see the newcomer. Her crystal-blue eyes fell upon the familiar sight of Giuffre Avank, a short and squat man with an ugly scarred and bald head, with piercing knife-like pale eyes that were always active and alert. Giuffre raised a small hand in greeting, the man already in his carapace armour and carrying a Locke-pattern Boltgun under his arm with a simple grox-leather sling.

“Ah, Norn! Was wonderin’ when your lazy ass ‘is gonna join us this morning!” A cheeky grin split his thick lips, and Astrid gave a small sigh, shaking her head.

“Oh, shut up Avank. Day’s just started, and I’m not late yet. Just gotta get ready and all. Any action so far?” She turned back to her locker and continued suiting up. Despite her semi-nudity, Giuffre made no attempt to steal any glances at the soft feminine features of his companion. After years of working together, he’d seen plenty, both admiring from afar as well as in some much more...close and personal scenarios. Besides, not like Astrid cared at all.

“Nuffin’ too fun, I’m afraid. The Throne-damned miners is stirring shit again, good for nuffin’ ingrates, they are. ‘Prolly won’t try anything too major, we don’t think. Marchin’ up to the Morningstar, last I ‘eard.” Astrid only paid half-attention to her companion as he spoke, focusing on fitting her breastplate into place before sliding her stormcoat overtop of the thick carapace. She reached into the locker and grabbed her shotgun, racking the pump and checking to make sure it was loaded before taking a small bandolier from inside and sliding it over her shoulder as well. Fully-kitted out, she turned back to Giuffre.

“My father was a Banedax miner, you know.” She said bluntly, tone halfway between matter-of-fact and wistful. Giuffre just stared at her for a moment with a blank stare on his face and his mouth slightly agape before her managed to snap out of it, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his head. He always did that when he was uncomfortable, Astrid had noted.

“Ah shit, Norn, that’s not...I didn’t mean nuffin’ like that, I’m sure your dad was a great lad. He at least helped make you, yeah?” He gave a small, awkward smile. Astrid just chuckled and shook her head, slinging her weapon over her shoulder and patted him on the shoulder.

“Throne, Avank, calm down will you? I’m just messing with you. Old bastard died when I was barely a child, I don’t care if you spit on his name.” She gave a hearty chuckle, slapping him lightly on the back. The man narrowed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. Despite what their gender may have suggested for them, Astrid towered a head over him, and when her large hand came down on his back he had to actively brace himself with his footing to stop from being pushed forward somewhat.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Since when did you become a wiseass?” Giuffre muttered and 

turned to exit the locker rooms, motioning with his hand for Astrid to follow. She did so wordlessly, holding onto the strap of her weapon as she walked along behind the older man.

“Anyways, as I was sayin’, we’re gonna head down to Morningstar Pass to deal with those rioters. Shouldn’t come to any violence. You know their type, eh? All talk an’ theatricality until they come face to face with us.” Giuffre gave a heavy chuckle, leading his companion towards the motor pool and garages.

The two Arbitrators made their way slowly towards the motor pools alongside some of the other denizens of the Courthouse, the heavy ‘thud’ of their carapace boots echoing in the enclosed halls. They found themselves in the garage after not much time, and with practised efficiency they began to file into their vehicle. The motor pool was filled with multiple personnel carriers of various makes and marks, from the humble Chimera to the occasional Rhino, each one having undoubtedly seen decades of service. Astrid and Giuffre took their positions inside the Repressor  _ Iron Fist _ , with Astrid seating herself on the top-mounted water cannon whilst Giuffre took one of the grenade launchers, no doubt loaded with smoke and gas grenades. Astrid peered down the hatch and looked back at Giuffre on his gun mount. 

“So Avank, you think we’ll actually need to use the vehicles this time? Been a while since I’ve gotten a chance to use the hose on anybody in...actually, no, I don’t think I’ve ever used this thing.” 

“Eeeeh, ‘prolly not in all honesty, Norn. ‘Fink we’re gonna do that ol’ strat’ o’ forming a line and scaring them all off. Might fire off a few smokes to disperse ‘em.” He gave a small, demure shrug as he checked the drum on his weapon, eyeing the chain-belt of 40mm grenades. There was 40 of them in the drum, and from his personal experience and knowledge he could deduce that it was an even-split between smokes and gas in alternating pattern, the smoke grenades marked by a simple white line encircling the shell, whilst the gas grenades had a similar design albeit in a sickly green. Avank reached up and pulled on the charging handle, chambering one of the grenades into the mighty weapon with a heavy ‘clunk’. The elder Arbitrator rapped his gauntleted knuckle against the cabin that held their driver, signalling him to start going. 

The ride to Morningstar Pass was slow and uneventful, the tracked personnel carrier carrying the group of Adeptus Arbites along the roads with a purposeful stride, the powerful engine rumbling loudly. The nose rebounded off of the tall rockrete buildings as they drove, creating an aura of aggressive noise that made everyone aware of their position. Astrid was the only one actually visible from the outside of the vehicle, sitting in her designated position and manning the water cannon, scanning the roads as they went along. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she saw a few people stare in awe of the machine, as well as a few petty criminals and gangers running away and trying to hide, lest give the Arbitrators another target. 

_ Iron Fist  _ rolled up to the opposite side of the gate at Morningstar Pass and her crew disembarked, the Arbitrators forming into their usual double-stacked line. Astrid took up her position in front, while Giuffre stood directly behind her, slinging his Boltgun off of his shoulder and readying it. Looking up to the gate attendants in their towers, Giuffre gave them the signal to open the massive gates to reveal their targets. With a slow and groaning creak of ancient and aging metal, the rockrete gates slowly pulled back to reveal the two adversaries to one another; on one side, proud and noble Adeptus Arbites, enforcers of His law, and on the other side a group of rough, ragged and downtrodden miners and gangers, armed with little more than large power picks and basic melee weapons. Astrid felt a tap on her shoulder, as did all her companions in the same line as her, and she racked her shotgun in sync with the first rank before dropping to one knee and aiming forward. The second rank aimed forward with whatever weapons they had, with the most common option being an Autogun or a Stubber while some of the more grizzled and veteran members carried Boltguns, Giuffre included. 

Giuffre reached over to the collar of his stormcoat and gently thumbed a switch that was sewn into it, activating a large shoulder-mounted speaker for him to talk into. 

++” **Miscreants and rioters, disturbers of the peace. We are the Adeptus Arbites, and with The Emperor as our lord and witness, we order you to stand down and return to your habitations or the mines if you still have a quota to fill. Failure to comply will result in the use of force, be it deadly if you give us a reason to do so.** ”++ He clicked the button on his collar again to deactivate the speaker, retaking his position behind Astrid. The large mob of miners stopped for a second and seemed to communicate with one another before they continued their slow advance, power-fielded picks gleaming in the dark streets of the hive. Astrid spoke up quietly, glancing back at Giuffre. 

“Avank, you think they’re gonna stop? Doesn’t look like it to me.” She sighted down the barrel of her riotgun, the gleaming black barrel wide-bore and designed purely for this detail.

“Nope, I think these idiots are actually pretty serious this time. They do see the gun-slaves, right? They’ll get torn to pieces…” He muttered quietly, looking back to the Oppressor for a moment before keying his micro-bead to page the driver, Janek. “Oi, Jan, get on the grenade launcher an’ give ‘em a four-piece volley to disperse ‘em a bit. I don’t like how close they’re getting.” He didn’t get an actual verbal response, but he saw the 40mm slowly move as Janek took up the weapon from inside the vehicle. There was quiet for a moment as the driver checked over the launcher to make sure it was in firing position, and then the silence was broken by the signature ‘thwump!’ of the 40mm as it fired four shells high into the sky only for them to land in the middle of the riot, two dispersing simple grey-white smoke while the other two spewed sickly green gas. That was when hell broke loose.

It had all happened so fast that Astrid barely knew what was going on. As soon as the four grenade shells had touched down amongst the crowds and began dispersing their contents, blanketing the area in deadly green smoke, all of the rioters began to charge. Astrid would later realize that they were wearing gasmasks, being standard equipment for working in the Banedax mines alongside their energized picks. They picked up the still-spewing smoke canisters and threw them back into the Arbites’ gunline, blanketing the Arbites in thick cloudy smog that blocked out vision. Astrid heard somebody yell out the command to open fire and she did just that, firing shell after shell of her large-bore riotgun into the smoky abyss in front of her while her companions did the same. She heard the telltale micro-explosion of Giuffre’s Boltgun firing, the large gyrojet micro-rockets soaring into the smoke and undoubtedly pulping whatever it hit. The smoke was still spewing when Giuffre gave the hold fire order, covering the street in a grim haze.

The air was ripe with the smell of blood and burnt skin, as well as the sulfurous scent of Banedax and their smoke grenades. Not a single target had managed to reach the Arbites firing line, and while they still couldn’t see anything due to the smoke, after all the fire they put out, surely nothing remained. 

“Alright lads, pack it up, our job’s do-” Giuffre was cut off by the telltale zap of a Lasgun, the gleaming red bolt of energy striking him just below the clavicle in the neck and almost decapitating him on the spot. His body slumped over wordlessly, the cauterized hole in his body simmering with a memorable scent of ozone that would haunt Astrid for the rest of her days. She looked towards a rooftop to where the shot had come from, taking her eyes away from the road. As she did so, the remaining miners decided to make their charge, sprinting at full speed like daemons, their heavy footfalls drawing Astrid’s attention back to the road. She managed to look back in time to see a Banedax miner, gasmask affixed to his face and power pick swung at full strength like he’d done a thousand times before, the powered field of the weapon coming straight at her. She instinctively pulled the trigger on her shotgun, and the muted thud of the firing pin hitting empty steel was the last thing she heard before the pickaxe struck. 

Astrid sprang up from bed, her near-nude body covered in a small sheen of cloyingly-cold sweat. Her hand immediately shot up to her face in reactive defense, only for her palm to meet the cool, refreshing and reassuring steel of her crude augmetic jaw. She let out a heavy, shaky sigh as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, chest rising and falling as she regained her composure. It was a nightmare, that was all. Just a bad memory. The Minean slumped out of bed and went towards the bathroom to clean herself off, staring into the mirror. The woman that greeted her was not the same woman that she’d seen in her dream. Where the woman in the dream had soft femininity, she had brutish muscle and masculine form; tight, toned arms with large biceps covered in veritable tapestries worth of tattoos, all with different meanings and symbolism, as well as rippling abdominals that were the product of years of effort. Those eyes, which had been so alive and energetic in her dream were now tired and emotionless. Her golden blonde hair was cut short, shaved entirely on the side of her head and had now degraded to a dirty straw colour. Then, there was her jaw. What was once a beautiful face, never marred by even the slightest scratch to ruin its perfection, was now host to an ugly and crude augmetic jaw, replacing the one she’d lost years ago. She reached up and stroked along the cold black metal of her augmetic, sighing wistfully. 

The guardswoman left the bathroom to find her clothes. It was still nighttime, and she knew she should be sleeping to be ready for the morning, but she needed this. Finding the pants of her fatigues thrown haphazardly over the back of a nearby chair, silently eyeing up the trail of clothes that lead to the bed as well, she rummaged through her pockets until she found her flask. Unscrewing the top and closing her eyes, she took the opening of the flask between her lip and augmetic and tilted her head back. The familiar burn of the root-whiskey hit her tongue and the back of her throat, and she let out a small groan as she downed the contents of her flask. The drink had become a very close friend of hers since the night-terrors had affected her, and she’d started to enjoy its company quite a bit. Astrid tossed her flask to the side, the metal clanking dully against the floor. A stir in the bed caught her attention, and she cast her gaze towards the blanket-clad figure. 

Astrid sighed heavily as she saw Vickarina Naughten, her commanding officer, rival, and on-again off-again lover slowly stir from her sleep. She reached her hand up to scratch at the back of her head, unable to look the Cadian in those deep purple eyes as she woke up. 

“Mmh, sorry, Colonel. Didn’t mean to wake you.” She spoke quietly, voice somewhere between a groggy mumble and genuinely apologetic. The Colonel brushed her lush black hair back behind her ear and used the blanket to cover her modesty, looking out at her adjutant with those expressive purple irises. Astrid had always been a handful, and then there was the incident at Hetaira on Gresia, and she went from an exemplary soldier to a no-good lousy drunk with a score to settle with everyone who looked at her funny. She was picking fights with everybody and anybody, especially Vickarina for whom she blamed the death of her squad. The Commissar wanted her dead, but Vickarina instead took Astrid into her own charge, and the two had become quite close in the ensuing months. She looked to Astrid and gave a knowing sigh, looking at the empty flask. 

“Bad dream?” Her voice was soft and airy, in total contrast to the usual hard-assed tone she displayed as a tank commander. Astrid swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

“Yeah. Same as always. I’ll start sleeping in my own quarters from now on. Besides, this whole thing isn’t good for-” 

“Shut up and come back to bed already.” Vickarina said softly, laying down in the warm bed, a step above what Astrid would usually have because of her status as an officer. The Minean looked at the nude Cadian, and with a bit of difficulty due to her injury, she smiled. She climbed back into the bed, wrapping her powerful arms around the waist of the Colonel and gently nuzzled up to the smaller woman, pulling her close.

“Thanks, Vick.” Astrid whispered, closing her eyes. Her mind may be plagued by the bad memories she’s suffered over the years of her life, but she’s started to make some good ones too.


End file.
